For quite sometime now I have been feeling that I have been living behind an eclipse. A long seemingly never ending one. Sometimes the shadow of a small moon grows so big and appropriately positioned that it darkens the brightness of size of a sun. And one wonders whether there exists a sun at all. No doubt, "there is always a golden ring following the eclipse" - as someone put it. But sometimes things arrive too late to be relevant. And I hope it won't be the case. I hope it won't happen behind a wall of a future cloud and not after when both the x-ray film on my eyes and the canvas in my hands go numb.
I get frustrated on the slightest setback, get annoyed on the most trivial friction. The world is turning out be too nihilistic and too purposeless and I don't know what to be blamed. As if the imperfect world has taken over the better part of the world for all. Suddenly(?) I have found myself to be a pedantic creature looking for the self sufficiency and meaning in every tiny bit isolating everything apart tending to defy the holistic meaning and existence. I feel as if the microscopic approach had defeated the telescopic approach of a life and no longer co-exist.
Consequently, I have been developing a dislike for anything that directly and remotely deals with the facts- history, statistics, news, chart, survey, percentage, absolute figure- anything; all because they represent the actual world, the factual world. And inevitably developing a sense of abstraction over objectivity which hides the naked truth and gives room for hundred interpretations, poems over chronology envisaging and espousing a perfect concept. When truth and falsehood are blurred juxtaposition, right and wrong are never settled debate - I feel accepting one doctrine is the way to be peace with. This can't amount to an escapism.
A few people argue, this is, indeed, a good phase for me, this is when one can turn upside down of a single thing over and over, flip one side to another side again and again and come up with an interpretation hitherto unknown, meaning and essence of it hitherto explained. But I am too confused. Am I a philosopher in the making or on the road of sainthood? Never I have had such a design in my mind. I will be happy if this transition will have happened as a result of a conscious drive, not as a war treaty after a battle over sadness.
I am fighting hard over everything, yet nothing with all my might and weapons. Till now it is all sands and dusts and a blurred vision. But I am keeping my windows opened, nonetheless. Someone said, we can't keep the windows closed and deprived ourselves of new air because of the fear of the dust.
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on Sunday, August 9, 2009
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